Sharp vanilla blows masses of peat and sweaty leather past your face, stinging it with the sultry slap of muddy root and rusty chain. Your frost-bitten cheeks glow from the burn, tingling alive and ruddy. The visual opacity transfers willingly onto the tongue, blanketing every sensor with the dance of black night reserved for only the most skulldugerrous of deeds. Fruit runs a floral-infused, steamed-rice, saltine-cracker Bing cherry into your nose and dumps pointed pie-cherry, Thai spice and Aperol bitters smack-dab onto the obfuscation the grinding density of this variety was restraining your palate with. Acid explosions occur at this point, bringing the sharp realization of balance along with barn-doors of glorious fruit gushing effortlessly deep into the beautifully polished tannins, and the last thing you are left with is a smile and the curl of tapenade and cigarette at the edges of your tongue.
Yeah. I went to Del Dotto’s new Oakville facility & caves last week. And this wine blew me away. Everything else I tasted is as you would assume: crazy over-ripe disgustingly over-oaked (don’t get them started talking on the oak programme) tourist bullshit. All labeled under layers and layers of vineyard and cooperage menutiae almost impossible to decipher and I guarantee their shorty-boot/balayage demographic can not–and does not care. The pinot noir from Ft. Ross/Seaview was literally one of the most horrible things I have ever tasted. They need to NOT make pinot. I found the one good wine in their line-up, and at almost 16-oh, it is pretty hard to recommend whole-heartedly.
2014 PIAZZA DEL DOTTO Petit Verdot Napa Valley 15.8